Allison's Diary
by Quirky Del
Summary: Diary of a brain, a princess, an athlete, a basket case, and a criminal, Allison style [ONE SHOT]


**Alright – my very first attempt at an Allison centered story. Eep. **

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The ink was getting low.

She shook the pen a few times before flinging it across the room, giving it up as a lost cause. Her mouth twisted to the side to blow a stubborn strand of hair out of her eyes, as she reached over for another trusty Bic.

Holding pen over paper, Allison closed her eyes, letting instinct take over. Her hand suddenly began a furious pace, marking exquisite designs of it's own accord. She hummed to herself, lids still squeezed tight so that she could see brilliant colours in her mind's eye.

After a few moments of scribbling she slowly fluttered her eyes open to assess her work. She allowed herself a small smirk. It was beginning to take shape. Shading an area here, adding a line there, she polished her picture with a few finishing touches before releasing her hold of both pen and paper. She arched back in her hard chair, wincing slightly at the pop that emitted from her spine. She paused a moment before twisting her waist first to the left, then to the right, stretching her weary muscles and creaking bones even more. It was time for a break.

Her legs unfolded out of her indian style position and her feet quickly found the floor, padding their way across the drab olive carpet. Walking down the dark hallway and into the kitchen her eyes widened at the icy sensation that met her toes. The linoleum was freezing, the frigid air moving up her legs until it reached her teeth, making her realize the chill in the air for the first time all night. She always got so wrapped up when she escaped into her comfortable world of art. It seemed as if all of her other senses shut down; giving leave for all her resources to gather and pool into her fingers.

Her hands quickly accomplished their prescribed task of acquiring a Coke and brownie, and she darted back to the little haven of her room, snapping her door shut behind her. Not that she expected anyone to bother her at two in the morning, she just felt more at ease in an enclosed space.

The soft fizz of the soda filled the room as she snapped the tab open, taking a hearty gulp before placing it back on the table. She looked up to the wall above her desk. It was littered with a myriad of drawings on various mediums – some were on large sketching pad tablets, some were drawn on lined paper that still had the messy fringes remaining from being ripped out of a spiral notebook, and a few of the pictures had been drawn on napkins, little tears where the point of the pen had buggered through.

She reached down to the desk, grabbing her newly finished paper and a thumb tack, and placed her latest image up.

This was her favourite so far.

She pulled down on the cuffs of her oversized sweater, letting her gaze wander from memory to memory displayed on the wall. She had taken to keeping a visual diary of sorts – instead of writing the day's events in words she'd simply let her right brain take over and soon a sketch would appear, detailing the good, the bad, the ugly – and the just downright ridiculous.

A half grin tugged on the corner of her lips as her eyes drifted to the small drawing in the upper left corner. It was a drawing that she had done last week. John was sitting on one of the weathered tables outside of the cafeteria, long strips of hair falling in his eyes, his face screwed up in mock concentration, mouth wide open, fingers poised out in his greatest air guitar pose. Claire was sitting down on the table bench, gazing at him with a mix of lust and embarrassment as a few fellow students were laughing and pointing. Brian was sitting on the other side, drumming on the table with his pencils, playing the rock star with his shades on. And then came Andy, head banging with arms outstretched, fingers gesturing the rock n roll motto. That had been a fun day.

She look to the picture on the right. Brian was sitting next to John, sharing his lunch.._again_. A soft snort escaped her lips as she thought of their rag tag friendship. Below was the inky snapshot she had taken of Claire and John in a tender moment, he was standing behind the redhead, arms encircling her, chin resting on the top of her head; Claire's eyes were closed, she looked so peaceful. Of course, the etching next to that one was the very same couple, but this time they were both pointing at each other in irritation, commemorating one of their many rows.

One of the illustrations in the middle was a depiction of the afternoon that Brian had asked Andy to teach him some of his wrestling moves. Andy had Brian locked into a Full Nelson, Allison had fun drawing that one. The comical expression on Brian's face was classic. Her gaze darted back to the latest addition to the wall.

Andy. He wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, he was just sitting next to her. He was holding her small hand firmly, his eyes locked in on hers. She was wearing his blue sweater and he was smiling at her. He had come by before dinner to see her, and they had walked down the street together, the new moon smiling down at them. Neither one had said too much to the other, but it was one of the best nights that she had ever had. Simple. That's what she liked about her relationship with Andy – they didn't complicate it with too many words, like John and Claire always did. They spoke when they wanted to, but they were both just as comfortable sitting together in silence. It was lovely.

A yawn overcame her, reminding her of the late hour. She quickly scarfed down her brownie, washing it down with the remaining soda. With one last glance back at the picture she flipped off the lights, burrowing down into her warm bed. She wondered what sort of entertainment tomorrow would bring for her to replicate with her mighty sword; knowing that, whatever it was, it would be interesting. She closed her eyes, visions of wrestling tights lulling her to sleep.

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**HA!**

**What do you think? **


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